Bring Death Upon Me
by Viperflamer
Summary: The ultimate sacrifice...can never be given willingly. Minato will discover that when his ignorance changes his world forever. He hasn't lost his life...but he wishes he had.
1. Chapter 1

Bring death upon me

_This is the moment in which hell wa__s born into the life of one man…_

Minato finished his string of seals, time freezing in his perception. He stood amid a black expanse; a ghostly figure, only he could see, stood before him. The specter was purple pale skinned with blood red eyes. Horns mounted his forehead, and a dagger was clutched between black teeth. Ironically, this devil held prayer beads in his right hand…a hand tattooed with strange black spots.

Minato stared at the creature unflinchingly and without fear. In his arms was a small wrapped bundle. It stirred slightly, as if sensing the hostile environment.

_It started with noble intentions; the belief that he was already making the ultimate sacrifice…_

Minato turned his back to the Shinigami, as the ritual for the jutsu demanded. He now saw two worlds: the world of darkness in which he and the Shinigami stood, and the world of reality and life.

The latter, was currently a battlefield of havoc and pain; something Minato was prepared to stop. It was canvassed as a still, none of the figures in the picture were moving. Time was frozen there.

The Yondaime let out a sigh, as he starred at a great red fox. The demon had nine long tails and eyes of fire and blood. The behemoth towered over the forest trees, and stood at even height with the Frog Boss, Gambunta.

Minato looked down at the bundle in his arms, smiling at it fondly. "Take care of your mother while I'm gone." He said, as he bent down to kiss the head of his child lightly.

_But how ultimate could his sacrifice be..._

His eyes returned to the nine-tailed fox, to the Kyuubi. His electric blue orbs steeled up with determination and resolve.

He pushed his soul from his body, and waited for the Shinigami to grab hold, thus starting the ritual.

_If he could make it so easily…_

**"What are you doing mortal?" **

The Shinigami voice boomed in the dark world. Minato felt himself freeze up, as if he were being forced underwater. His soul was shoved violently back into his body, a numb pain blistering through his spine.

This Shinigami appeared in front of him, flashing into existence in a blink.

Minato starred at him confused, eyes wide with surprise.

**"You take me and my contract to lightly, mortal." **Minato could hear the Shinigami's voice, yet the apparition in front of him did not move its lips. The dagger was still firmly tucked between black teeth.

"I-I…I don't understand." Despite his body's inability to manage even a twitch, his lips worked perfectly.

_His ignorance would cost him…_

The Shinigami lowered closer to Minato's face. And even though spirits did not breathe, the blonde Hokage could feel a cold breath on his cheeks.

**"I'm hungry."** Stated the Shinigami's voice.

"Then devour my soul and complete the ritual!" Minato's voice sounded desperate at this point. Panicked could not even begin to describe it. This was his only chance to stop the Kyuubi and save his village.

Finally a feature on the Shinigami changed. The black rows of teeth became more pronounced and wide. The ghost was smiling.

**"Noble souls, given so freely…taste bland and empty…they don't satisfy my appetite." **He seemed to stare more intently at Minato now, if an emotion could be applied to it, it would have to be anger.

"Fine, then take the Kyuubi as well!" shouted Minato in his attempt to try and appease the Shinigami. Sweat could now be seen falling down his brow.

The Shinigami's smile only widened.

**"It seems you don't understand." **

_Something he was not prepared to pay…_

The dagger dropped from the Shinigami's mouth. The Yondaime visibly relaxed, as it meant the ritual was finally going to start. Perhaps he wouldn't even have to burden his son with the demon…perhaps the Shinigami would simply take it away as well…to appease its hunger.

**"A soul for a seal; that is the contract you agreed to." **

The dagger was raised high, before the spirit plunged it down. Minato closed his eyes in acceptance and waited for his soul to be ripped from his body.

The sound of metal meeting flesh resounded through the Yondaime's ears.

_The true ultimate sacrifice…_

Minato could feel blood running between his fingers, and his heart beat stopped. He opened his eyes wide and stared blankly at the face of the smiling Shinigami.

Slowly he cast his view down…to the bundle in his arms.

_Is something that could never be given willingly__…_

His arms were blood soaked…

Hell had come to him…

**"I choose the soul…and I choose the seal." **Minato could only hear the monsters words faintly. He couldn't focus on them…or listen to them. They didn't matter anymore…nothing mattered anymore. **"The souls of the innocent are by far the tastiest."**

His body seemed to be released from whatever spell he was under and he began to tremble. Tears would not do justice the anguish he felt. He couldn't breath; he couldn't see straight, he was going to pass out.

**"And the wicked onto themselves, make the best of seals…" **

Minato passed out in that world of darkness. He would be lost in it, even though he would live on in the world he had saved.

He had sacrificed his light.

He had sacrificed…Naruto.


	2. Hands of a Death God

Bring death upon me

Authors notes: Think what you want. Just read…

Chapter two

_"I choose the soul…and I choose the seal." _

_"The souls of the innocent are by far the tastiest."_

_"And the wicked onto themselves, make the best of seals…" _

_------------------------------------------------------------------------_

_"__I'm moving…__"_

Chains dragged roughly over the dirt road, each heavy link leaving a distinct impression in the earth's surface. Bare feet bore the load; thin malnourished ankles heaved rusted metal with every step.

It was the image of slavery…

Tan skin was rubbed raw; blood flowed passed the calloused heels onto the ground. Red foot prints were left in the strangers wake. He stumbled with drained balance, knees buckling to the ground.

His torso was unclothed, tan complexion exposed to the elements. The ribcage was prominent against his skin, typical characteristic of those associated with starvation. On his bare chest was a large scar. The white patch marred his russet skin, standing out for all to see.

His sickly appearance made the strangers ability to move a curiosity. Shackled feet dug into the ground as he lifted himself up. He trudged onward once again, with aimless direction.

The sun was just on the start of rise, the sky cast in a morning hue with a damp mist floating in the air; birds were only just now waking to fill the wilderness with their song.

The stranger stared unblinkingly at a tree where just such a chirping melody resonated. He gazed with wide eyed fascination, the shock on his face implied how new the experience was for him.

He had the most beautiful blue eyes…

The bird flew from its perch, out of sight from the stranger. He listened as the lone song faded, with something akin to content in his expression. He began to move seconds later.

His walk continued to seem stiff and awkward. The strangers elbows rested firmly at his sides, but his hands could not join them. Instead they were forced at his front, shackled like his feet, but with a far more imposing method.

His hands were sealed together, with what could best be described as twin canisters. The black metal started at each of his wrists, overtaking both his hands completely. They appeared welded together at the center, separating them was impossible by mere physical means.

The size of them was something to gawk at as well. The bulky steel stuck out in contrast to the strangers, dangerously, thin body. It was a wonder he was able to carry them at all.

Even so, he did not appear bothered by his bindings. It might even be inferred that he did not notice their presence as anything other then part of his own body.

His hair was blonde and long, reaching passed his shoulders. His bangs rested over his eyes, overtaking his forehead. The style could best be described as unkempt, as the locks stuck out in random places.

He was young, and very short by extension. A boy, to anybodies understanding of the word, but his exact age was lost to all his physical traits. Young is the only thing that could describe it in truth.

The forest was now a chorus of bird songs, he walked among it with peace on his face. It can be said that the strange boy really enjoyed the sound.

* * *

He was reaching the end of the forest now, daylight marking the exit in the break of the trees. 

The rattle of his chains stopped when he did. His bare feet stood at the edge of the break, and his wide eyes gazed, surprised, at the scene in front of him. The environment was completely different from where he had just been. A vast wasteland lay before him. The few trees that could be seen were charred black, and while dirt was still very much present, it was loose like dust, picking up when the wind did.

With early morning just beginning, the wasteland was also cast in a light mist. The sun peaked off in the distance, but grey clouds were the dominant in the sky.

The boy began his walk again without much delay. His understanding of the sudden change in his surroundings was non-existent.

Life was scarce in the wasteland. No longer could the stranger hear the beautiful song of the birds. Their melody was lost over the distance he placed between them.

His pace seemed notably deadened by the silence. The bravado of his shackled steps had left with the song. It was not an affirmation of depression, but a sad longing.

He really liked their song…

Seconds passed, then minutes, and finally hours.

The line of the forest was lost long ago passed the horizon. The sun was blocked by overhanging clouds, leaving its brutality filtered, but its beauty lost.

One drop of rain fell and then another. A downpour began with immense suddenness. The cool sensation of water against his skin, made the stranger jump, his shackles clanking together as he did.

With the innocence of a new born, he gazed up at the sky. The wonder he beheld in the rain was of poetic fascination.

He walked on with careless strides. His pace unchanged with the added rain fall.

Plumes of smoke rose up in the distance. Their black folds undeterred by the thick sheets of rain fall. The boy paid them little mind, but became aware of the cries in the distance.

It was a song of its own…

He brightened a little, silence obviously not his favorite thing.

With his shackles clanking off the ground like thunder he moved closer to the cries. The song turned to distinguishable sounds of battle, not that he knew what that was. Soon the clashes of swords joined in chorus with his chains. They created a bitter melody together.

He decided at that point, that he liked the birds' song better.

The distance between the boy and the smoke became short; he was neigh upon its scene. The wasteland gave rise to a hill, which he climbed, and overlooked the battlefield.

Men clad in opposing armors fought. The dead were numerous, though in the stranger's eyes, they were just sleeping.

It was a fight of red and yellow; red having a clear advantage, with yellow on the retreat. Flags were held high with pride, baring strange symbols on their fabrics.

Common sense aside, which the boy greatly lacked, he walked into the heat of battle. His pace was not disrupted by the death around him. He simply gazed around the field with curiosity.

The boy was noticed quickly. His appearance being something of aberrant prominence, and with his blonde yellow hair, in the thick of battle, conclusions could be drawn by soldiers.

The stranger was under attack in a blink, swords descending upon him. He already held the 'look' of a prisoner of war, so a soldier was not a far stretch.

A slash at his face, and the stranger was down on his back. The assault had stopped there with very pleased looking soldiers hovering over his form.

The stranger blinked then sat up, something that made his would-be-attackers give a moment's pause. He locked gazes with them, but said nothing. They intern, did the same.

They took final notice of his chains; with more ration then passion this time. They held there swords at him, this time as a threat. The yellow side was already fleeing, so they had all the time in the world with the lad.

"You, come with us." Said the head of the three. He was of no distinguishable features, clothed in the same armor as the two others, red with horned helmets and black facemasks.

The boy didn't even need to reply. The two others were at his sides with a hand on each shoulder. They attempted to lift him to his feet…but lacked the strength to heave him and his…prisons.

Their dilemma was noticed by the stranger, and he lifted himself up. He smiled at them, friendly and warm…they scowled back in minor mortification; and though the stranger had not intended it; his smile, to them, seemed mocking.

They gave him a rough shove forward, starting his pace. He was lead towards the front of their lines, where cheers of victory were being sung.

A path was made in their ranks, however, as he passed by. Others joined the original three that escorted him. Their swords were already drawn and looked hungry to bite into his flesh. Despite the hostile air, the stranger smiled and walked. His chains clanking in comical awareness to his standing.

People sent him the most awkward looks. For the life of him he didn't know what they were.

Soon he stood before a fine armored man. The difference in his attire was the amount of horns protruding from his helm and shoulders. His black eyes fell upon the boy, then on the soldiers; asking a silent question.

"Found him wandering the field." Stated the head of the little group. "We engaged, but he did not reciprocate…his appearance suggests a prisoner or a slave."

Neither of those options seemed likely. Slavery existed, but was not so common place that one was likely to see it, especially on a place like the battlefield. Prisoners were normally kept far from the battle sights as well, unless they were recently captured, and he was positive the youth in front of him was not a member of his ranks.

Besides, he had never heard of either the former or latter being bound so…extensively.

"What's you name." he asked, addressing the stranger.

The boy looked at him with bright blue eyes. The gleam in them suggested naivety to the severity of his surroundings.

"N-name…" the boy repeated his voice was dry; hoarse from disuse. If they weren't in the middle of a war, the General leader would have felt sympathy. As it stood though, the stranger's state only raised suspicion.

"I am General Tsuppari of the 12th Legion to His Lordship, Ike-sama." Stated the man in a boisterous voice. The archers in his ranks stood ready, should the stranger have a hostile reaction to his name, there was none. "I ask you again…what is your name?"

He waited for the boy to respond. The stranger in question appeared to be in deep thought, his face scrunched with concentration.

Something seemed to have clicked for the boy at that moment. "Darei!" he said happily. "Is…that my…name." his words were cluttered and pronounced roughly. The boy was clearly not used to speaking, and going beyond two words seemed to be hard for him.

The General regarded the youths' question. 'Darei', it was doubtful that was really his name…especially with the earlier assumptions about the boy. (Darei roughly means slave or servant.)

None the less, the General allowed it. If the boy was of no threat, then it would be easier to place a name to his face.

The General turned around, before speaking again. "Take him to the wagon with the other…we will question him later." He said.

The men behind Darei gave a salute, then a small shout of acknowledgement for the command. They led the boy away.

General Tsuppari watched the blondes retreating back, eyes narrowing in a calculating fashion. The lad was young, but not much younger then the Genin some villages produced. The risk was high that he was an enemy, but it was equally tempered that he was a slave.

Until answers could be found, he would have to be imprisoned and brought to the capital for questioning.

He sighed. "Damn shinobi…makes war so difficult." He mumbled out.

* * *

Darei practically walked into the wagon by himself. He apparently held no reservations with being a prisoner…of course that was assuming he understood the gravity of his situation. 

Then again…

Darei's chains rattled against the floor of the wagon. He smiled at the cells only other occupant.

It might not have mattered…

The other prisoner was a young man with black and red hair He wore a grin on his face…and that was it. No clothes could be seen on him, and most of his flesh was covered by rope. He was wrapped, hog tied and then some. Despite this he was mobile.

He inched toward Darei, and the exit like a worm. "Hey hey, food please!" he yelled to the retreating guard.

"SHUT UP!" responded the solider.

"So…so mean." Said the man disheartened. Comedic tears now flowed down his face. He looked at Darei for a moment then spoke. "If we are forced to the point of cannibalism, please untie me so it is a fair fight."

With that he rolled over and skulked, but he didn't remain that way for long. He was soon squirming his way over to Darei, a pout on his face. "So…what you in for?" he asked.

Darei stared at him curiously, the naïve smile never leaving his face. "In…what?" he asked.

The man gave a light laugh. "Good answer; I like you Mr. Shackles." He said with a grin. "I've decided I won't eat you…no matter how hungry I get."

Darei plopped down beside him, the man looked rather pathetic, if not funny, being belly down and Christmas wrapped every which way with rope.

The man eyed Dareis' chains with morbid curiosity; he then seemed to reflect on his own bindings. "They really go all out huh?" he asked.

Darei gave him a confused look.

"Just saying, when this is all over, I'll have rope burn and you'll have pale hands and bleeding ankles." He stated. "These guys aren't very good hosts."

With a pout he looked down. Darei gave him a pat on the back…but it was more painful then soothing with the blunt weapons attached to his arms.

"Names Pip." Said the man with a grin. "Just a humble baker, yes I am, I got caught stealing some bread."

"Baker?" replied Darei in question.

Pip laughed. "You're not very smart, are you Mr. Shackles?"

"Smart?"

Pip laughed harder. "Well at least you're great for conversation!"

"Conversation?"

Pip didn't laugh this time, but looked annoyed. "Scratch that last part…"

"Scratch?"

"YOU GOT TO BE SHITTIN ME!!!" after his outburst Pip began to laugh again. "Bet you're just a victim of circumstance…no way your smart enough to be a threat."

Darei soon joined in laughing with Pip…though he didn't know what they were laughing about.

"So where'd you come from Mr. Shackles?" asked Pip. "And none of that 'From?' shit either."

"Tousama." Said Darei with an affirmative nod.

It was now Pip's turn for a confused reply. "Tousama?" he repeated dumbly.

A few moments passed by before Pip's dirty sense of humor finally kicked in. He started to laugh. "Yes…I suppose we all come from our Tousan at some point…"

Darei nodded. "Tousama is hungry, so he told Darei to gather food." The boys' voice was far less hoarse, and he now spoke with more of a natural flow in his dialect.

Pip listened to Darei's words and reflected on them. _"Kids father must be near dead from starvation…" _he thought this while his eyes glued to Darei's prominent rib cage and nonexistent belly.

Moments later the guard came back with two small tin bowls of food.

"SALVATION!" yelled Pip. He rolled his body near the entrance and dove face first into the food. The guard watched him with disgust.

"I've seen pigs eat with more dignity…" muttered the man under his breath. He then turned his attention to the boy. At moments glance, his features softened. The boys' shackles had been convenient for them, as they did not have to tie him up like the other, but at the same time it limited their feeding options. They could let the boy lower himself…like the other man, or they could feed him themselves.

Since the boy had been the model captive so far, the guard chose the latter. He walked around the outside of the wagon.

"Open your mouth." He said. Darei complied and he began feeding.

"Why does he get the royal treatment!" shrieked Pip.

"Because he is not an annoying ass." Was the guards retort.

"Well at least loosen my ropes!"

"Fuck you!"

"So…so mean…" mumbled Pip in tears. He then returned to his 'salvation', as he liked to put it.

Darei ate happily, the expression on his face reminding both the guard and his cellmate just how young he really was. The sympathy factor was greatly amplified by his overall appearance.

Large rusted shackles, bloody ankles, large scar on his chest, dirty long hair, and starved figure.

Yep…the definition of someone who deserves sympathy.

* * *

Night rolled around. The guards had changed shifts, and their new attending was no where near as kind to Darei or Pip, as the last guy had been…okay so maybe Pip received the same treatment, but innocent Darei was treated like dirt. 

"Look at you brat; to retarded to even know you're a prisoner." Said the man with a laugh. His features were ugly and misshapen. His teeth were buck and his eye brows were one.

Darei smiled none the less. The guards argument held some water, given the poor boy didn't understand he was being made fun of.

Pip nearly cried at his innocence.

A loud cheer was heard off in the distance. The army was celebrating their victory from earlier.

Pip gazed up at the night sky, his features suddenly becoming far more serious.

"Almost time…" he muttered to himself. He gazed over at Darei, who caught his look. Pip smiled and the child smiled back.

* * *

Hours rolled by. Most of the soldiers were asleep in a drunken stupor. 

General Tsuppari sat awake, placed at a seat in front of the camp fire. He sipped from a small dish of sake, savoring the taste.

He and the troops would march back to the capital at day break, despite the overwhelming threat of hangovers. He sighed and took another sip of his drink.

Their numerous victories over _Kuni__ no __Tsuchi_had been far too easily won. The losses on both sides had been minimal; each battle resulting in a retreat from their opposition. It had been a dream war in the eyes of Tsuppari's daimyo; but a nightmare on Tsuppari's rational conscious.

The General's years of experience told him only one thing. "The enemy is gauging us." He said aloud. "Am I right?"

He felt the press of cold steel against the front of his neck. "Something like that." Came the familiar voice of Pip.

"I had wondered why we had yet to see any of Iwa's shinobi in this war." Said the General calmly. If Tsuppari was afraid he was very good at hiding it. "It was deemed unnecessary for them to fight…"

"You were the only real threat." Said Pip. "Not that your country had a chance against us to begin with, but this makes things much easier."

"By killing me, you cut off my country's arms and legs…making it easier to take the head."

Pip gave a short silent laugh. "Please, we've considered your country a cripple ever since you rolled over on our soil…no, your death is us taking the head."

"So all these battles have been a set up for my assassination." Said Tsuppari with nostalgia in his voice. "I should feel honored…yet you still let me breath, why?"

The dead calm in his voice threw Pip back slightly. The man was brave beyond all sense of mortal limitations.

"Don't be in such a hurry, you'll be dead by the end of this conversation." Replied Pip. "I merely have a question."

"Oh?"

"Why is my cellmate bound so extensively?"

Tsuppari scuffed, his first reaction outside of stoic calm. "He was like that when we found him."

"I see…"

Tsuppair gave a sigh. "Well assassin, I have only this to say…" his eyes darted to the side. "You shouldn't have wasted time talking to me."

Pip's eyes widened, as he felt a presence behind him. His body disappeared in a poof of smoke just in time to avoid being impaled on the point of a sword.

He reappeared several meters away, eyes locked on Tsuppari. The General had opted to remain in his seat. With a calm, steady, hand he lifted his sake saucer to his lips. The liquid flowed into his mouth as he drank with a composed demeanor.

Behind him was his savior. A shinobi, if his stealth was anything to attest to, with medium build and a short sword in hand. He was garbed in a stereotypical shinobi outfit, leaving his face completely hidden.

Not that Pip really cared. The man was unimportant and would most likely be dead soon.

"I am not killed so easily." Said Tsuparri as he poured himself some more sake. Several more shinobi appeared from the shadows, surrounding Pip. "Lets keep this quiet…so as not to wake the men."

Pip reprimanded himself in his head. He could kill Tsuparri…but without the element of surprise and stealth, he would not be able to simply leave. The soldiers were bound to wake up the second blades began to clash.

The Iwa-nin weighed his options, eyes darting for possible escape routes. Whether Tsuparri lived or died, it was of little consequence; _Kuni__ no __Tsuchi_would win the war regardless of the General's participation.

Still…a failed assassination would look bad on his record. He was really fond of his perfect record.

One of the shinobi behind him charged. Pip pivoted on his foot, letting the strike sail beside him. He rammed his kunai into the moving attacker's chest, he felt heart strings severe.

He grabbed another kunai, taking one up in each hand. Pip now held both weapons in reverse grip. The blood soaked kunai dripped as if declaring a challenge.

They all charged him at once.

* * *

Darei opened his eyes. He had fallen asleep at some point, but was now awakened by the sounds of battle. His eyes darted to the camp, where soldiers were lifting themselves off the ground and rushing to fight. 

The child raised an eyebrow in curiosity. His head suddenly turned to face the other direction. "You're hungry now Tousama?" he asked the empty space beside him. He smiled and nodded. "Hai, Tousama."

Darei stood up and walked towards the wagon cell door.

* * *

Pip growled in frustration, as he slit the throat of another soldier. He hadn't been able to kill any more of the shinobi, but had slaughtered a few foot soldiers. 

With the increase in numbers, the opposing shinobi seemed to feel little need to engage him. The formed a circle around Tsuppari, a tight guard with no visible openings.

Crossing his arms at his chest, he held both his kunai parallel to his shoulders He blurred for a moment and then appeared ten feet ahead. Twenty soldiers suddenly fell dead.

He made the same pose again and got ready. Two of the shinobi sprung into action to stop him. He grinned as he threw the kunai at the ground in front of him. He vanished just as the enemy shinobi reached him. The kunai exploded.

Pip reappeared behind the circle and gave charge, two new kunai already in hand. A large mud wall suddenly erupted from the ground, forcing him to come to a skidding halt. "Damn…" he cursed under his breath.

He rolled to the side just rock bullets began to fire from the wall.

Pip quickly recovered, but was forced to kill two more soldiers in his way. He put some distance between them and him.

There was an eerie silence now. More soldiers had woken and were now forming lines, ready to attack. The army was slowly, but surely mounting an offensive against him.

He needed a way to end the fight, and soon.

Ten more soldiers attacked. He spun around on the balls of his feet and slashed all their throats in a smooth precise cycle.

As they fell, ten more took their place.

Something needed to happen for him…and quick.

There was a rush in the air beside him. His red and black hair streamed forward from the gust. Soon his eyes caught sight of what had passed him…

It looked like the wagon cell door…

It hit the mud wall square in the center. The smooth brown surface cracked slightly from the force.

The wall retreated into the ground, allowing for the shinobi and Tsuppari included to view the addition to the battle.

"So…you are an assassin as well." Stated Tsuppari.

Pip suddenly averted his gaze to his rear. "Mr…Shackles." He said surprised.

Darei replied as thus. "Assassin?"

If the situation had been any different, Pip would have started laughing out loud.

Tsuppari's sigh could be heard, even over the confusion of the soldiers. "Such a shame, that one so young fights as a shinobi for his village."

"Shinobi?"

"It is pointless to play dumb, assassin." Said Tsuappari steeling his eyes with resolve. "Show some dignity and fight with your true intent."

Darei looked confused for a moment, before smiling. "Tousama says he's hungry." He began to take steps forward. Then, in the most innocent tone of voice, he said. "Please give him your soul."

The General looked surprised for a moment. Then his lips twitched into a grin…and then he began to laugh. "My soul you say!" he shouted with mirth. "That's a bold statement!"

Two more shinobi broke from the circle to attack the boy. Darei, in response, lifted his heavy prisons and swatted in a horizontal fashion. The shinobi easily dodged the obvious strike, but did not expect Darei to continue with the attack.

With fluid grace he spun around a complete three-hundred-sixty degrees and diverted the attack diagonally to strike the ground. Momentum still pushing him, and the weight of his prisons working against him, he was able to pole-vault the rest of his body forward in an instant. His legs had already struck one of the nin in the face, with a sickening crunch. The man crumpled to the ground, unconscious with his face bloody and swollen.

His prisons never leaving the ground, Darei twisted in the air. The remaining nin prepared to strike at his spike with a kunai, but Darei bent in his forearms and lowered himself. He opened his legs, and the kunai strike sailed threw the gap.

The nin's arm was now outstretched, and caught between Darei's legs. The boy simply curled in his legs, the chain connecting his ankles hooked to the nins arm and dragged him down as well. He twisted once, tying off the iron knot now holding the nin , and flung his legs forward.

The attacker hit the ground hard, face first, leaving a crater in his wake. Needless to say, he was unconscious.

All of this had taken place in the course of five seconds.

The army of soldiers was stunned, and the shinobi were tensing in preparation.

Darei sat down, cross legged, his chains still wrapped around his last opponents arm.

He then looked at the empty air beside him and began to nod his head. "Tousama says he wants you three as well." Stated the child, pointing forward and counting off three of the shinobi beside Tsuparri.

"He also says I need to hurry."

With that the prisons around his hands began to glow. Red seals blazed momentarily, before finally the steel dissolved into rusted dust, the ankle braces doing likewise.

An eerie calm set over the battlefield.

Pip was shocked speechless.

Darei's hands had a faint blue glow to them. Thousands of tiny black seals were inscribed on the skin, and the nails were pointed like claws.

Then he sprinted towards Tsuparri and the shinobi group. One of them ran forward to meet him head on. He threw several shuriken, which Darei ignored and let pass by, scratching bits here and there, but nothing serious.

While still in run, the man started forming seals. And earth spike shot forward, in bended like a whip as it extended on a curve to meet Darei.

The strange boy hopped to the side, dodging the initial strike, then suddenly began running along the side of the spike.

It led him like a path beside the still advancing nin, who had had no time to react to Darei's attack.

The boy simply held his hand out, it was braced as if ready to grab something.

It touched the nin's shoulder…then it passed through.

When it was all over, Darei was on the other side of the nin, with a blue transparent mass the exact size and shape of the nin laying limply in his hand.

The attacking nin, fell crumpled to the ground, dead, a moment later.

Pip stared at what Darei now held, wheels began to turn in his head.

_"Please give him your soul."_

That had been what Darei had said, and it seemed he meant those words in all literal intention.

Darei held up the soul to the open space of air beside him. "Here Tousama." He said happily.

Suddenly the empty space wasn't so empty. A ghostly figure began to appear before them all. He was large, and demonic. His body was that of transparent purple skin, and a horned forehead. Black teeth clutched a dagger, and red eyes stared hungrily at what was in the boys hands.

Only one word came to mind.

"Shinigami…"

* * *

Authors notes: there you go. It's late, so I will beta and correct tomorrow, and thus fix the chapter. Questions? 

I suggest you wait for the next chapter before any conclusions are drawn by anyone. I fully plan on explaining everything through the story. I'm not leaving you guys out to dry when it comes to Minato either. His part in this story will come later.

I'm sure most of you understand what is happening right now. For those of you who are slow, or are just not interested enough to see. Then I shall say, that don't think TO much into it. It is what it is at face glance.

That is Naruto, for all intensive purposes, and that is the Shinigami that killed him. Shinigami is not nice, or buddy buddy with Naruto. In fact he treats Naruto like dirt, but as I said, wait for the rest of the story and you will see just where the characters each stand.

I plan on keeping Pip, as I like him. I hope some of you found him funny, and he will hopefully grow more so as time goes on.

Also for those of you who don't know. Tousama, Tousan, Tou-sama, Tou-san: It all means the smae thing, and that thing is father. Their are other ways to refer to 'Father' in Japanese, but this way is very common among fanfiction.

Sama: is the honorific. Darei uses it in reference to the Shinigami. Who he sees as someone better and of a higher station.

Anyway, as I said, I have not beta read this. It is late, and I'm submitting for casual viewing pleasure. I will correct most the mistakes when I wake up. Especially the glaringly obvious ones. Enjoy


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